Hidden Treasure
by Nightdew
Summary: For 800 years, the Elvenking has kept his son, Legolas, as a simple Wood-Elf, unaware of his true parentage. But Elrond's visions of the future could be about to change that.
1. Chapter 1

_This is one of the first LOTR stories I wrote, so the prose is a bit rough but I still like the story. I've left the original introduction on it too._

**Hidden Treasure**

_This story was inspired by reading Ellen Brundige's essay, Legolas of Mirkwood: Prince Among Equals, and a lot of the ideas within it come from that. Quotes in Elvish languages come direct from LOTR: the High Elven greeting from p.94 and the hymn to Elbereth from pp.254 and 1066. Apart from one or two bits from the Appendix, the rest is all mine, and now all yours. It is set in the era just prior to The Hobbit._

* * *

The Elf's eyes widened with fear as the Spiders closed in around her. She was trapped in the dark, overgrown hollow, cut off from her companions. Bravely, she closed her eyes and began to chant softly under her breath. But the Spiders were undaunted. For once, she was one and they were many. They scuttled further forward on their hideous, hairy legs, dragging their bloated bodies behind them. Their whining, evil voices creaked in the darkness. The Elf looked up to the skies and let out a clear, piercing scream that penetrated through the forest roof. Too late were clear voices heard ringing through the thickets. Too late did a hail of arrows fall showering into the hollow. The Elf lay still and silent. The Spiders had crushed her to death.

* * *

The picture shrank to a speck of starlight in the eye of the Elvenking. It was 700 years to the day since his wife had been taken by the Spiders and the memory, like all Elven memories, was as clear as waking life, if not clearer. But no tear came to soften his piercing blue eyes. The long years of the Elvenking had been full of bitterness and sorrow and, as he stood now in the throne room of his underground fortress, the soft lamplight playing on his golden hair and crown of autumn leaves, his face, though still Elven-fair, was stern and hard. He paced up and down the room and sighed deeply.

* * *

The pale face of the golden-haired Elf was wet with tears as he knelt in the dark, overgrown hollow, his hand upon his breast. Behind him stood another Elf, grey-eyed with hair the colour of a birch tree bark, also with hand upon breast and head bowed in reverence.

"Come, Legolas," said the grey-eyed Elf. "I will sing a lament for your mother:

In peace beneath the beech and oak

Her footsteps walked, her clear voice rang.

Who will now hear the song she sang?

Who will now tell the words she spoke?

When Springtime comes, and April rain

In lands beyond the distant shore,

Where flowers blossom evermore,

May it be will shall meet again."

Legolas rose and drew his long, pale hand across his eyes.

"Thank you, Eryn," he said. "Though 700 times 700 years may pass, I will never forget her, nor the love she had for me."

Eryn laid a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I know," he said.

* * *

A messenger came through the brightly-carved doors of the underground throne room and bowed before the King.

"My Lord," he said. "There is someone…"

But, before he could finish the sentence, a light step was heard in the corridor, and a tall, dignified Elf entered the room. A star was on his brow, and his long robes trailed behind him as he walked. He looked boldly into the eyes of the Elvenking, and the two held the gaze for some minutes before either spoke.

"Elrond. Elen sila lumenn' omentielvo," said the Elvenking, in a tone which, if not curt, did not sound entirely welcoming.

"It has been a long time, Thranduil," said Elrond. "But I have come here to speak to you on matters of great importance."

"Such as what?" said Thranduil.

"One I am sure you can guess," Elrond replied. "I would ask if you would not reconsider and join the White Council."

"And pander to the Golden Megalomaniac?" scoffed Thranduil.

"Your quarrel with Galadriel is well known," said Elrond. "Yet the time is coming when we must put all such differences aside and unite. There are evil things abroad in the world. You, of all people, must surely know that."

"I do know it," said the Elvenking, "and I deal with it as I may. We do not all wield such powerful weapons in the defence of our lands." His eyes strayed to Elrond's hand.

"Such weapons will not avail us if the One is found," said Elrond. "You know of what I speak. I beg you to reconsider."

"You have your way, Elrond, and I have mine," said Thranduil. "If that is all you come to say, then you have wasted your journey."

"That is not all I came to say," said Elrond. "I would also speak to you on another matter – that of your son."

Thranduil's nostrils flared and his eyes flashed fire.

"Do not speak to me of my son!" he thundered. "His welfare is my concern alone and no business of yours!"

"Then you have still not told him, after all these years?" said Elrond in amazement.

"Why should I?" said Thranduil. "What need has he of royal titles and High-Elven ways. He is contented under beech and elm, bending the bow and singing in the starlight; merry and loving as was his dear mother before him. And if what you say is true, Elrond, I think you will find my wisdom borne out. The less he knows, the better."

"You have not waited to hear me out," Elrond said. "My foresight tells me he is destined for some act of greatness."

"Which as a Wood-Elf he could not possibly accomplish, I suppose?" said Thranduil. "Acts of greatness! What have they ever brought to the Elder Race but death and destruction? You ought to know, Herald of Gil-galad. You were there on that day. We looked into the very Eye of Mordor. There the People of the Wood fell and their sweet, merry voices were silenced forever."

"Do not let bitterness cloud your wisdom," said Elrond. "You know as well as I do that, were a second darkness to fall, the voices of the Elves would be silenced under these very trees." He sighed. "You always were one for hoarding treasure, Thranduil. But do not imagine that you can conceal your greatest treasure forever. If he truly is destined for greatness, then nothing you or I can do will be able to alter that."

"Then do not pretend that I am the only one to conceal my treasure, Elrond," said the Elvenking. "I know the identity of the Boy you have taken in. And I am not unaware of the maiden Undomiel, dwell as she may in the accursed Wood."

"The light of the Evenstar will shine in due time," said Elrond. "And, as for the Boy, I will reveal to him his heritage when he comes of age. I will not conceal it from him 800 years in an attempt to assuage my own disappointments."

Thranduil laughed, bitterly.

"My own disappointments," he repeated. "Yes, they have been long and many. Well, you have challenged me, Elrond. Maybe the wisdom of this Wood has been lacking of late. I will send word to you when I may. But do not expect a hasty decision."

"I would never even wish for that," said Elrond.


	2. Chapter 2

"Come on, Legolas. Let us leave this place," said Eryn. "There are evil things close by. I can feel them."

Legolas wiped the last tear from his eye.

"Yes, I can feel them, too," he said. "Let us make haste."

They picked up their bows and turned to leave. Suddenly, the tree behind them was peppered with small, black arrows.

"Yrch!" they both cried, drawing arrows from their quivers.

Legolas swung into the low branches of a tree. From his vantage point, he could see the hideous creatures running about on the forest floor, bows in hands. Again and again he fired on them, and yet more seemed to come. He had almost run out of arrows when the orcs began to retreat, it seemed. Then suddenly he realised that he could no longer see Eryn. Swiftly, he leaped down from the tree and searched the surrounding area. The orcs were gone but, spattered on the dead leaves, he could see drops of Elf blood and a trail up which something appeared to have been dragged.

"Eryn!" he called. There was no answer.

Quickly, he picked up as many arrows as he could find and started up the trail.

* * *

The Elvenking was seated on a tree stump in a woodland glade, his carven staff in hand. Before him was a green-clad messenger.

"Send word to Rivendell," he said. "Tell Elrond he may examine the – treasure – we spoke of."

"Yes, my Lord," said the messenger.

"And where is Legolas?" continued the King. "I sent for him yesterday, but he failed to appear."

"I don't know," said the messenger. "No one has seen him for three weeks."

Thranduil drew himself up to his full height.

"Find him!" he said.

* * *

Legolas stood outside the orc-den, hesitating. Several dead orcs lay in front of the entrance, even as they had spasmodically littered the trail. Eryn must have put up quite a fight! That, at least, was encouraging. Legolas just hoped he hadn't paid for it too dearly. Softly, he stole into the den. It was pitch-dark and it stank, but his keen eyes soon pierced a way through the twisting tunnels. Suddenly, round a corner, three orcs sprang out, armed with knives. Legolas was too quick for them, however, and they each fell with arrows in their throats. He continued in the direction from which the orcs had come. There was a soft moan in the darkness. He looked down and saw a familiar figure lying on the floor. Eryn's face was white and he seemed to have lost a lot of blood. Several black arrows were sticking out of him.

"Eryn?" called Legolas, softly.

Eryn opened his eyes.

"Legolas," he said, weakly. "I knew you would come."

"I have to get you out of here before the orcs come back," whispered Legolas.

He knelt down and put his arms round his friend. Then he gently picked him up and carried him back into the forest. Once at a safe distance, he laid Eryn down again, and looked at him, anxiously. The orc-arrows were probably poisoned. He pulled them out and looked intently at the tips.

"I'll be back soon," he said to Eryn.

Legolas plunged into the thicket and came back holding some dark green leaves, which he crushed between his hands and rubbed into Eryn's wounds, singing softly the whole time.

"Hold on, my friend," he said. "It is a long journey yet."

Then he picked Eryn back up again and set off down the path.

* * *

In the middle of a clearing, a group of Wood-Elves were seated in a circle on the ground. Some were fletching their arrows, some combing their silky hair. One was playing softly upon a harp.

Suddenly, Legolas burst through the trees with Eryn in his arms. The Elves sprang to their feet and gathered round them. Two took Eryn from Legolas' arms and laid him softly on the ground.

"What happened?" they said.

"Orcs," panted Legolas. "I healed him as best I could in the wild, but he needs more."

"King Thranduil is looking for you," said one of the Elves.

"Is he?" said Legolas, shortly, trying to recover his breath. "Then he will have to wait."

"He has been looking for you for two weeks," persisted the Elf. "You had better go now."

"Don't worry," chimed in other voices. "We will attend to Eryn."

Legolas was loath to leave his friend, but the other Elves were insistent, and he reluctantly went.

* * *

Legolas found the Elvenking standing on the bridge before the gate of his Halls. Beside him stood another Elf-lord, tall and golden haired, clad in raiment of blue and silver-grey.

"Where have you been, Legolas?" said Thranduil, impatiently as he approached. "I have here Glorfindel of Rivendell, an Elf-lord of great importance, who has come to escort you there. Master Elrond greatly desires to meet with you."

"But not at this very moment, surely?" said Legolas, somewhat disconcerted. "I have just returned from hunting orcs. They took Eryn. He is badly wounded and I need…"

"There are other hands in this Wood capable of healing Eryn," the King interrupted.

"But Eryn is my best friend!" said Legolas, angrily.

"Silence!" shouted Thranduil. "We have waited for you long enough. Now go and prepare for the journey."

Legolas opened his mouth to speak but a flash of cold light from the Elvenking's eye silenced him. He folded his lips and went back to his dwelling.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a beautiful autumn twilight when Glorfindel and Legolas rode into the Enchanted Valley of Rivendell. As they crossed the bridge, soft lights glimmered in the trees and the sound of sweet singing could be heard through the branches. Legolas wanted to turn aside but Glorfindel said, no, they must head for the House.

When they reached the doorway of the Last Homely House, Elrond was standing there to greet them.

"Welcome to Rivendell, Legolas of Mirkwood," he said. "I trust the journey was a pleasant one."

"It was, but," Legolas hesitated, "but I would rather not have made it at this time. I left my friend badly injured in Mirkwood, and I am anxious for his recovery."

Elrond nodded and exchanged subtle glances with Glorfindel.

"We will not detain you long," he said, kindly. "In the meantime, please enjoy the hospitality of the House. It is quite famous, I believe."

* * *

Legolas' first night in Rivendell was rather over-awing. The Elves of Elrond's household showed him to his room, which was as comfortable and pleasant as could be wished for, but Legolas was more used to sleeping under the stars in his Mirkwood tree-house. He felt awkward and rustic in his forest green and brown, and wished more than once that Glorfindel had allowed him to remain in the Valley.

However, after the evening meal, which was as good as any Legolas had tasted, the company gathered in the Hall of Fire, and here Legolas began to feel comfortable again, as the Elf-minstrels drew forth living dreams from the hearts of all present, and the heroes and adventures of the Elder Days were made to live vividly once again. Some of the songs were new to Legolas, but many he knew, or at least something very like them. But then, from a spot near the fire, a high, clear voice struck up a song, which Legolas had never heard before, but which resonated deeply within his soul:

A Elbereth Gilthoniel,

silivren penna miriel

o menel aglar elenath! (1)

And, for the first time, his heart stirred with longing for the Blessed Realm.

* * *

After two more days in Rivendell, Legolas began to feel restless again. He had scarcely seen Elrond and not a word had been spoken about why he was there. He decided to go into the Valley and seek out the Wood-Elves whose voices he had heard the first night. Strapping his quiver to his back, as he always did at home, and picking up his bow, he left the house and came down the steps into the gardens.

Sitting at the foot of the steps, gazing into the trees, was a young boy, lithe and dark-haired. He was plain of face and no Elven-light shone from his eyes, and Legolas wondered why this man-child was here, amid so many high-Elven lords and ladies.

"Where are you going?" said the Boy to Legolas as he passed. "Can I come too?"

He spoke the words in perfect Sindarin, and with a more refined accent than the one Legolas was wont to use.

"I am going into the Woodland," Legolas replied. "It is too confined for me here, even in this beautiful House. But I don't mind your coming if no one else does."

"Elrond lets me go where I like," said the Boy. "He knows I can look after myself."

He got up from the steps and trotted after Legolas, across the gardens and into the Woodland beyond.

"I am called Estel. What's your name?" he said.

"Legolas. I am here on a visit from Mirkwood."

"Oh, so you're Legolas," said the Boy. "I have heard a lot about you."

Legolas laughed. "All good, I hope."

The Boy winked, confidentially. "More than good, I'd say. That's a great bow," he added, eyeing Legolas' weapon. "I can use a bow. And a sword. Oh, I've had a great idea! Let's have a contest, then I can show you. Please say yes. You can choose the target."

Legolas suppressed another laugh. "All right," he said. "How about that big conker hanging down over there?"

Estel scowled. "Are you teasing me? There isn't even a chestnut tree."

"Yes, there is," said Legolas, pointing to where the umbrella-shape of a chestnut tree could faintly be made out, apparently the size of a mushroom.

Estel's face fell. "You are teasing me," he said. "You know I can't possibly see that far."

"Then you choose the target," said Legolas.

"I will," said the Boy. "That knot-hole, there, on the beech tree."

Legolas drew out an arrow and handed it, with his bow, to Estel.

"You shoot first," he said.

Estel fitted the arrow and bent the bow. He was surprisingly strong for his size and, Legolas thought, surprisingly skilful for a mortal. His stance and technique were both good. The arrow flew through the air and struck the knot-hole near the top.

"Well shot," said Legolas, taking back the bow. He drew out a second arrow and put it to the string, eyeing the too-easy target casually. Then, at the last moment, he let his hand drop so the arrow struck the bark just below the target.

"You win!" he said, cheerfully.

But Estel was not convinced.

"You did that on purpose," he said, frowning. "Now shoot again, properly."

"Very well, then," said Legolas, and instantly fired off three arrows in rapid succession, fitting each one to the string quicker than the eye could follow. They each struck the dead centre, the second and third arrows splitting the previous one down the middle.

Estel stood open-mouthed.

"How did you do that?" he exclaimed.

Legolas smiled at the Boy over his shoulder.

"Centuries of practise," he said. "And maybe a drop or two of Elven blood."

"Ah, yes, I know about that," said Estel, knowingly. "You are of High Elven blood because you are the son of Thranduil, the Elvenking of Mirkwood."

Legolas stared the Boy in the face.

"No, I'm not," he said. "I'm just one of his people."

"But I heard Elrond say to Glorfindel…" Estel began, and then broke off suddenly, as he saw the flash in Legolas' eyes.

"Little boys who listen at doors should not repeat what they hear," said Legolas looking, if he had known it, not at all unlike the Elvenking.

"Oh please!" cried Estel, clearly distraught. "Please don't! Please say we can still be friends."

Legolas sighed and patted the Boy on the head.

"We can still be friends," he said. But his eyes looked thoughtful.

* * *

_(1) Tolkien, JRR , The Lord of the Rings p.254 (London: Harper Collins, 1993 edition)_


	4. Chapter 4

Legolas' light step sounded faintly in the cool daytime hush of the Hall of Fire. Elrond was standing by the window and he turned towards Legolas as he entered, the soft glow from the hearth illuminating his face.

"I know why it is you have come," he said. "You come to ask me if you really are the son of Thranduil of Mirkwood. You are."

"Then why has he never said so?" said Legolas, angrily.

"I believe he thought you would be happier as you are," said Elrond. "Tell me, do you not prefer your Woodland life to this?"

"Yes," said Legolas, "but…"

"And you would not prefer to be raised above your comrades?"

Legolas thought of Eryn and, strangely enough, of young Estel.

"No," he said, softly. "But does he not love me?" he said, looking up at Elrond, his blue eyes quivering. "My mother was warm and tender but the Elvenking is so – cold."

"The Elvenking has known many sorrows during his long years," said Elrond, "as have we all. But I think I would be right in saying that he loves his Woodland People very dearly, and you most of all."

Legolas turned away from Elrond for some time. Then he said, quietly, "I want to go back."

"Two more nights," said Elrond. "For Estel's sake."

* * *

Legolas was riding back to the Woodland Realm alone. He had convinced Elrond that he could remember the way, and now he was once again under the dark eaves of Mirkwood. In spite of Elrond's words, he still felt angry with Thranduil, and he still felt confused that no explanation had been given as to why he had been in Rivendell in the first place.

Suddenly, the horse reared and whinnied. Legolas leaped clear and glanced around him. The horse was right. Some evil thing was fast approaching. Legolas tried to comfort the frightened animal with soft words but it turned and bolted into the trees. He spun round. There, scuttling towards him on its hideously barbed legs was a giant Spider. Swiftly, he drew out an arrow and fired. One of its eyes went blind. The Spider let out a shrill cry and hurtled towards him at great speed. It was too close a range for shooting now. Legolas pulled out his knife. The Spider was on top of him. He thrust upward, trying to penetrate the Spider's soft underside, while the Spider strove to find an inlet for its poisonous fangs. Legolas held on grimly and closed his eyes.

Suddenly, a bow sang. Then there was a whiz and a thud, and an Elven spear pierced the Spider's hide, skewering it to the ground. It raised its head, looking round with its seven eyes. Legolas stabbed upwards. The Spider's filthy entrails spilled out onto the forest floor.

Legolas crawled clear of the carnage and looked up. There, standing across the grove, bow in hand, was the Elvenking. Each gazed at the other in silence, as if seeing themselves for the first time: the same eyes, the same golden hair, the same long, pale fingers grasping the bow. Then Thranduil walked softly across the leaf carpet and laid a hand on his son's shoulder.

"I thought I had lost you," he said. "And then when would I have spoken, my son? Forgive my silence. I thought it was for the best."

Legolas thought again of the words of Elrond, and of his Woodland life, of Estel and Eryn and his mother.

"It was for the best," he said. "I am a Wood-Elf and I wish for no other life. I only have one request: that I might visit Rivendell again in the future."

"Granted," said Thranduil, with a rare smile. "Now, come, Eryn is waiting for you."

And they walked together into the forest.

* * *

Glorfindel and Elrond stood side by side in the Hall of Fire.

"So, what do you think now?" asked Glorfindel. "Is he destined for greatness?"

Elrond gazed into the fire and, slowly, in his mind's eye, a picture unfolded. A group of companions was walking through the wilderness, one race by the side of another. Legolas was with them, and also Estel, now a grown man and worn with care. Elrond felt a sense of foreboding, of a great darkness and a terrible power. But he also felt a deep sense of loyalty, of friendship which no power, however strong, could undo. He turned back to Glorfindel.

"Yes," he said. "I believe he is."

The End.


End file.
